by Marlow Kelly
A loud knock sounded on the bathroom door.
“David, you’ve got to come see this. You’re on the news,” Tim shouted through the door and then stomped down the stairs.
They stopped. It was like being doused in cold water.
David leant his head against hers “We cannot catch a break.”
He backed away, disentangling himself from her legs as he tugged his shirt over his head.
She tried to smile as she plucked her towel from where it had fallen on the floor. “We don’t have any luck when it comes to bathrooms—that’s for sure.”
He grabbed her clothes off the floor where she’d left them. “You can use the robe on the back of the door for now.”
“I don’t suppose Tim has a bra?”
He smiled, looked at her breasts, and then winked. “Not a chance.”
Her face heated, and she yanked the towel across her body, struggling to cover herself.
He hooked her chin with his free hand and gave her a peck on the lips. “When the time is right, you won’t be embarrassed, we will both be naked, and we won’t be in a bathroom.
Then he left, closing the door behind him.
****
David smiled. Marie’s boldness in the face of their mutual attraction was a pleasant surprise. He got the impression she was sheltered and a touch naïve. Her innocence could work in his favor. She might see their attraction as special, which it was, as far as he was concerned. She was also a scientist, so she might think it was just a new experience, something to be explored and examined. He growled at that thought. For him, this was more than physical. She filled his mind. He had an almost overpowering need to kiss her, touch her and, most of all, protect her.
“What are you making?” David asked as he entered the kitchen in time to see his friend place two large flat dishes in the oven.
“Roasted chicken with vegetables. He set the timer on the stove and then headed for the living room. You have to see this.”
A large, older television sat on top of a cabinet in the corner of the room. When Tim pressed the remote, it flickered to life.
“There are no new updates on Dr. Marie Wilson, the scientist who was kidnapped yesterday from Granite City. It’s believed she was taken by this man, David Quinn.” A photo of him in his dress uniform flashed onto the screen.
The commentator, continued. “There’s a possibility that Quinn, an ex-Green Beret, is suffering from PTSD. Understandably, most of his military service is classified, but we have managed to uncover some details that forced his resignation. While on a mission in Afghanistan, Quinn shot and killed one of the soldiers he had been sent to rescue.”
David’s stomach lurched, and bile burned his throat. His worst nightmare and private shame were now on public view. Everyone would know. Sinclair, Tim, Michael, and Finn would all know…and Marie. What would she think of him? He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of that awful, cold night. Then he pictured Marie, her face flushed with desire, and his gut twisted again. That would be gone, too, now that she knew who he was and what he was capable of.
Marie slipped her hand in his. He hadn’t even known she was in the room. She held on tight even as he tried to pull away. He couldn’t look at her. He wanted to explain, to somehow justify his actions. He opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. The words lodged in his throat. He should, at least, let go of her hand, but instead he gripped it tighter.
Tim changed the channel to the next newscast where a middle-aged man with a round face said, “This is Cruz MacDonald, owner of Big Sky News. At this station, we pride ourselves on getting it right. We’ve checked the reports on this kidnapping. My sources at the Granite City-Elkhead police department have told me David Quinn actually brought Marie Wilson to them after she was the victim of a home invasion. Now, I’m no lawyer, but to me that’s reasonable doubt. What’s going on here? Are they lovers? Friends? Or did he kidnap her?”
He leaned in close to the camera. “We won’t know until they are found or they come forward. If David Quinn or Marie Wilson are watching this broadcast, I urge you to contact us and sort out this mess.”
Then he backed away and read the papers in his hand for a moment. “Another thing about this case… It has been reported by some of the other channels that Quinn shot one of his own men while on a mission. If that’s the case, why did he receive an honorable discharge? We’re supposed to be reporting the news, not spreading rumors. When I served in the first Gulf War, all that Special Forces information was classified, so where the heck are these so-called reporters getting their material?” He took a moment to catch his breath. “Okay, now to road closures—”
Tim switched off the television. “Cruz MacDonald from Big Sky News may be eccentric, but at least he’s honest.”
****
Marie had never been so angry in her life. “They can’t slander you like that.”
David didn’t acknowledge her. He released her hand and walked outside, slamming the backdoor behind him.
If he thought she wouldn’t go outside in the cold, wearing nothing but a robe, then he was wrong. Tim stopped her as she reached the door. “Here.” He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and gave her a hesitant smile. “David’s used to his own company. He’s never been comfortable talking about his feelings. Hell, I don’t know many men who are, but don’t back down.” He glanced outside and then at her. “You need to understand, David was always the strong one. He’s used to that role. It’s hard for him to ask for help and even harder for him to accept it.”
She nodded, grateful for Tim’s advice and support.
She found David leaning against a weathered porch post on the wrap-around deck, staring out at the panoramic view of the snow-capped mountains.
She strode to his side and rested against the railing. Wafts of moisture escaped her mouth as she breathed. Damn, it was cold. She pulled the blanket over her head in an attempt to stop her wet hair from freezing. She wanted to stay out here to talk, but she couldn’t do that if she froze to death.
They stood there in silence until she couldn’t take it any longer. “We have to do something.”
“No.” He didn’t look at her.
“But it’s not true.”
Once again, he fell silent and stared at the mountains.
“What happened?” She held her breath, trying to control her temper.
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Can’t or won’t,” she snapped.
“Can’t.”
The significance of his answer calmed her and made her feel less combative. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about his experiences, he couldn’t. He had made an oath and was keeping it, in spite of the fact that honoring his promise meant he couldn’t refute the allegations levied against him. It was more proof of his integrity, honor, and the depth of his character. But the news people had used the classified nature of his work to say whatever they wanted, knowing he couldn’t disprove their slander.
“I’m so angry right now I could spit,” she yelled, reaching the limit of her patience.
“You should be angry. But you have to believe me. I didn’t mean to deceive you.” His voice cracked.
Her heart ached for him. “You—”
“I should’ve told you—”
“Tell me what? Details of classified missions that you aren’t allowed to talk about? I don’t need to hear that stuff. I know exactly who you are.”
His gaze slanted to her. “And who am I?”
“You’re the man who saved me. When I was in trouble at the airport, I knew if I called your name loud enough you would come to my rescue. Actually, I’m angry for two reasons. First, that MacDonald man was right. They shouldn’t be allowed to smear your good name without proof. Once this is over, we’re going to sue the pants off that news station for reporting those lies.”
“And second?”
She grabbed his arm in an attempt to get him to look at her, but he cont
inued to stare out at the landscape. “You’re shutting me out, and I don’t like it.” Now that she’d said the words aloud, she realized that was the real source of her anger. It might be silly, especially since they’d known each other for less than two days, but it was the truth. If he couldn’t confide in her, then they were just two people who’d been thrown together by circumstance, but she wanted more. She wanted to matter, to be more than a woman he kissed in bathrooms. She wanted a future with him, which seemed ridiculous because they didn’t have a future. Even if they managed to escape the mess they were in, he wanted to go back to his land and his bees—alone.
Whatever happened, it came down to feelings. She couldn’t be involved with someone physically if there was no emotional connection. If they couldn’t share their feelings, then she couldn’t get involved. She poked him in the shoulder. “You listen to me. We’re in this nightmare together, and that means something. You’ve earned my friendship and loyalty whether you like it or not.”
He blinked, which was the only sign he’d heard her.
She sucked in a breath. She’d never been a fan of tough love. In her experience, it involved her father saying mean things to manipulate her, but David wouldn’t want her pity. Something terrible had happened to him, and she couldn’t allow all that hurt to fester inside him. Even if they parted ways tomorrow, he needed to talk to someone, if not her, then a professional. “Look at you. You might as well be lying on the ground, curled in a ball.”
“What do you want me to do? I can’t talk about it.”
“You can’t talk about the event, but you can discuss how you feel. You think you’re alone, and you’re not. You have friends, people, who care about you. Your sister, Agent Callaghan, Tim, and the mysterious Michael have all stuck their necks out for you. Some of us don’t have that.”
“Do you have that?” He turned to face her, his pale green eyes as intense as ever. She hesitated. Her personal situation was not something she liked to talk about, mainly because she didn’t want to be tagged as the poor little rich girl. But this was a pivotal moment. If she wanted him to share his pain, then she had to trust him with hers. “No, all I have is a father who ignores me. My mother committed suicide. She didn’t even love me enough to stay alive.”
He put his arms around her, embracing her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know the circumstances, but maybe you had nothing to do with it. Perhaps she was sick and she didn’t know what she was doing. I can’t imagine anyone not loving you. What about your friends?”
“I lied. I lost touch with them after they had their baby. Our lives changed, and we drifted apart.”
“Would your father have been there to meet you at the airport?”
“I doubt it.”
Using his thumb, he tilted her chin up. “That makes him an asshole, and it means you have daddy issues.”
“Great big daddy issues, the size of the moon.” She shrugged. “Everyone has issues, including you.” In a flash of inspiration, she said, “Is this incident the reason you don’t kill?”
“What makes you think that?”
“It’s what you told Jake, and you’ve discarded every weapon you’ve come across.”
“Yeah, the truth is I’ve always hated killing. I hated it when I was fourteen, and here I am nineteen years later still hating it.” He turned towards the mountains, staring into the distance.
She thought he wasn’t going to say anymore, but then he cleared his throat. “It’s not classified. I just don’t talk about it because the guy has a family.”
“What happened?”
“It was nighttime. We were in this dugout, hiding. We’d rescued these fobbits, they’re guys who normally don’t leave the base. They’d gotten themselves into some trouble. One of them started to hallucinate, a guy name Louis Heffermint. He thought we were the enemy. We tried to talk him down, but I guess he was too out of it to listen. He fired wildly. Jose and Cameron were killed. Jose was supposed to retire in two months. Once he was out, he planned to work with his brother-in-law at a Volvo dealership in Texas. Cameron had a family in LA. All he wanted to do was get home and make love to his wife and hug his children. If he had ideas beyond that, he didn’t say.”
He paused as if giving a moment of silence in memory of his friends. “I shot Heffermint.”
“Good.”
He carried on as if he hadn’t heard her, and maybe he hadn’t. “It was instinct, a gut reaction. He shot at us, and I shot him. I didn’t think about it until after it was done. I’ve killed many men and could justify my actions because they were the enemy and I’m a soldier. For me, this was overwhelming. I don’t know why. Maybe I just had enough.”
“You had no choice.” For another type of person, this awful episode wouldn’t be so devastating, but for David, a man who hated killing, it was soul-destroying. Despite the way he looked and his death stare, at his core, he was a good, kind man. She could see how he would have buried the gentle side of his nature to survive on the streets, and then continued to bury it when he’d joined the army. Being forced to shoot one of his own men had been the last straw. It had become too much for him, and he’d quit.
“There was an enquiry. They concluded Heffermint had a psychotic break. It seems that he’d become withdrawn, and he’d said a few things that didn’t make sense. There were also pages and pages of incoherent writing in his journal. I was cleared. I asked for my discharge, which was granted.”
He’d given her the bare bones of the story in its simplest form. He hadn’t mentioned if the enemy had attacked or if there were injuries. “Is that how you injured your face?”
“Yeah, I was grazed by a bullet.”
The scar on his cheek was part of him. She hadn’t registered that it had been caused by a bullet. An inch closer, and he could have been killed. A cold chill arrowed through her at the thought of how close he’d come to death. He had changed her reality. He brought vibrancy and energy to her world, and the idea of life without him made her hurt.
In a flash of awareness, she realized the truth, her truth. She’d been half in love with him since the airport, and now it was too late to turn back. It didn’t matter if he wanted nothing more than a casual relationship. She was hooked. It was that simple. She would take what she could get, because every minute spent with him was a moment to treasure.
She ran a finger along his scar. “I’m sorry you were forced to shoot Heffermint. There’s nothing I can do to change that, but I will not let you push me away. You have to come in and get ready. We’re heading to Tim’s hiding place. I want to be alone with you.”
He stared at her for a moment as if deciding something and then said, “Yes ma’am.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Finn wondered if the coffee he’d purchased on the way back to his office was burning a hole in his stomach.
Kennedy sat opposite eating a brownie while she flicked through the messages on her phone. “You know we should share this office.”
“Don’t you like having your own?”
“What’s the point when I spend half my time in here, sitting in this hard chair with no cushion? I don’t have my computer, so I can’t check files, and I don’t have my notes. Besides, my butt’s starting to hurt.” She yanked her chair closer and placed her half-eaten treat on the edge of his desk.
For a second, he pictured her butt, but then forced his mind back to the case. “Let’s talk about the interview.”
Kennedy fidgeted in the cheap seat as she tucked her phone in her pocket. “Portman didn’t like you looking at the photograph.”
“You saw that? Yes, but once I asked if David was one of the kids in the picture, he relaxed.”
Her brow crinkled. “That’s right, he did. What was in that image that he didn’t want us to see?”
“There were a few things that made him uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, and he out and out lied when he said he didn’t know about Dr. Wilson.” She took a last bite of her brownie and threw the wr
apper in the bin.
“You picked up on that, too. I’m surprised he let it show. In fact, for someone in his position, he wasn’t very good at concealing his body language.”
“His position?”
“Come on, he’s the president of a power company. He must’ve told some whoppers to achieve his position.” Finn took a sip of his coffee and then immediately regretted it as the drink corroded more of his insides.
She pinned him with a glare. “What’s your friend doing there?”
“Michael?”
“Yeah, he’s one of the street kids, isn’t he?
“Yes, but he’s not like the others.” Finn visualized Michael slipping the note into his pocket.
“How so?”
“They ended up on the streets because they had nowhere else to go.”
“How was Michael different?”
“He’s smart, and I mean high IQ smart. He’s Cree. I think he’d heard about street kids and wanted to see what it was all about.”
“Seriously?” She shook her head.
“His first night out, he met David and the others. In them he found friends that didn’t need anything from him. There were no expectations, no preconceived ideas about who he should become and what he should do. They didn’t care how intelligent he was. They’re his friends, and they watch his back.”
She nodded. “I get that.”
“Michael’s pretty quiet. Doesn’t say much, but he told me he didn’t go to Marshall House with the others. He went home to his family.”
